


We turned words into weapons (and love into war)

by DarkenedSkylight



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Tim, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark Tim, League of Assassins Tim, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Damian, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkenedSkylight/pseuds/DarkenedSkylight
Summary: An AU in which Timothy Drake was raised by Ra's al Ghul as the heir to the League of Assassins, presented as an Alpha, and was given Ra's Omega grandson, Damian, as a present for his nineteenth birthday.





	1. Princes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave your thoughts in the comments below, I'd love to see some feedback.
> 
> I've figured that the ages in the beginning are as follows...
> 
> Dick - 30  
> Jason - 24  
> Tim - 20  
> Damian - 17

Tim Drake. The name sends shivers down the spines of many. The personal apprentice of Ra’s al Ghul. True heir to the League. On par with Ra’s himself. Master assassin - took on the Bat and won, but didn’t kill him because Bruce Wayne’s life belonged to Ra’s. Lined on his own island, rich beyond measure. Could have picked any mega he wanted. He was a high level Alpha, able to impose his will on the strongest of Betas and Omegas, even able to control lower Alphas. He was renown for his intelligence, causing havoc and mayhem because he thought it was _fun_.

He could have had any Omega he wanted, but chose one in particular. Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, the son of Talia and Batman himself. Tim got what he wanted when he turned nineteen, dressing the Omega in fancy collars and taking him in more ways than one. All while he was still here, however. He had been deployed on another hit mission, and had been gone for six months.

Mira knew this. She was a Beta, employed in the manor that Tim owned on a small island off the coast of British Columbia, and had worked here all her life. Her father was unknown, her Omega mother having given birth to her, teaching Mira how to be a servant in a castle with eyes and ears everywhere, where she was expected to know how to fight and kill. Her mother taught her, and she became the personal attendant of the most important Omega in this facility, Damian. She never said much to him, and he never to her, but she considered him kind. He was often quiet. Even more so lately.

Mira sighed as she stood outside Damian’s room, unsure of what to do. The Omega had been refusing to eat, starving himself. He wouldn’t move unless lead, and refused to do anything for himself. He just stared, empty and lifeless at the spot where the crib once stood. Mira placed a hand on the handle of the door, letting herself in and staring down at the Omega. He was sitting on the floor of the room, hands on the soft carpet, a blanket draped around his form. Mira had placed him there a few hours ago, and it looked like he hadn’t even moved. Her eyes filled with grief as she stepped into the room, not touching him, but desperately wanting to soothe him. She was not an Omega, so she could not understand his grief, but she understood enough just by watching him, knowing how much pain he was in.

Miscarriages hit Omegas hard.

“Sir?” Mira prompted, but after receiving no response, she sighed softly and let herself out of the room, debating. She brought a hand to her forehead, feeling the knife strapped to her left bicep press against her skin. Her gaze turned to the phone lying innocently on the table beside the couch in the living room. The house was laid out like an old Japanese style one, in the shape of a square with a courtyard in the middle, underneath being the Master’s weapons stash and general base of activities. That phone was the one way the servants could communicate with anyone outside this particular base. The Master had done so to ensure Damian couldn’t collaborate with an escape, but in Mira’s humble opinion, it wasn’t necessary. Ra’s had kept Damian so locked up he didn’t have anyone to collaborate to begin with. She often felt sorry for him - male Omegas were almost never fertile. Damian was lucky to be so, but after the Master had left him six months ago…

It wasn’t pretty. The Master left him pregnant, until the child needed it’s sire’s hormones to survive. Hormones it didn’t get. And with that complication, the child died. Damian hadn’t been the same since.

Mira eyed the phone, before steeling herself and walking towards it, picking it up with steady hands, knowing full well she could be killed for this. She heard the line on the other end pick up, the silence prompting Mira to act.

“Lady Shiva.” Mira greeted. The Alpha assassin was the only one able to connect to this line. The Master had made sure of it. “Damian had a miscarriage and is unresponsive. Master Timothy is not here. We fear for the worst.” she said.

Silence from the Alpha.

“...I will send for Timothy.” Lady Shiva agreed, hanging up the phone mere seconds later. The Beta sighed in relief and placed the phone back on the stand, looking up at a picture of Damian playing violin, that hung above the fireplace, in clear view from any of the couches in varying shades of blue. The carpet under the couches was black, the stones surrounding the fire grey in colour and shining, strong. The walls were painted a darkened blue, with the couch pillows being in black. The living room wasn’t large - just one couch, a loveseat, a reclining chair, a fireplace, and a table beside the loveseat that held the phone Mira had just used.

She exited through the courtyard and walked towards the kitchen. It was time for breakfast, and Damian must be hungry. He had to eat something.

~

Tim didn’t think he had ever moved so fast in his life. Damian had never been intended for anything but a fling to vent his frustrations on both before and after he had a mate. A mate who could provide him offspring. Most likely, a female Omega. Omegas were rare, fertile male Omegas even rarer. High level Alphas in positions of power, like Tim, fought for the rarest to Bond with. Even Ra’s himself had only garnered a female Omega. But for a fertile male Omega to fall right into his lap… Tim was beyond foolish. Damian had been pregnant. That was a huge deal. Tim knew for a fact that Omegas with miscarriages were always devastated, and since this was Damian’s first, it would hit him hard. No wonder the servants called Lady Shiva. As Tim pushed the button to allow the landing gear out on his plane, he made a mental note to promote the person responsible for that phone call. Yes, treason and bad behaviour would result in death and torture, but Tim rewarded good behaviour. It inspired loyalty in his servants, loyalty that would be imperative in the long run. Tim’s plane landed on the water near the island, and the elevator system started going downwards, into a series of water draining tunnels, until it came to a full stop in what Tim liked to call the Nest.

He had been in Gotham, tripping up the Bats and Birds. He would leave Bruce, Batman, alive for Ra’s. Dick was too entertaining to kill, and Jason’s life belonged to Lady Shiva. Tim, technically, was only assigned to Oracle while Nightwing was Talia’s catch. But she let him have both, and boy were they fun to play with. Tim had gotten caught up with messing with Barbara Gordon, hence why he was gone for a whole six months.

He regretted it now.

Tim opened the hatch and leapt out of the plane, his personal attendant, Stephanie Brown, waiting for him. Without stopping to take off his black, skin-tight kevlar suit with red straps across his chest, shoulders, and back, holding his essential materials, he took off towards the elevator, Stephanie matching him stride for stride. The insignia connecting the straps on his chest were two Rs - Red Robin. 

“ _I’m Red Robin._ ” he remembered hissing to Bruce while licking Dick’s blood off his bladed staff. “ _For the bird you could’ve saved, but is now covered in blood._ ”

It had been a nice reveal. But not worth the price.

“His condition?” Tim tapped his foot restlessly against the floor of the elevator as it ascended into the courtyard of his house.

“Hasn’t spoken, won’t move on his own, doesn’t react to pain, noise, or anything, must be force fed, and acts like a doll.” Stephanie listed it off with a clinical detachment. “He’s not even releasing any hormones - his natural scent has all but vanished into nothing, and his heat is delayed by a week. It’s unnatural, especially because they used to be like clockwork.” Stephanie explained. The elevator dinged as it reached the correct floor, and Tim and Stephanie stepped out of the gazebo that doubled as the elevator into the Nest.

They made their way across the courtyard, Tim stepping onto the porch first and opening Damian’s bedroom door while Stephanie leaned on the wall outside, tensed, with one hand on her daggers she was so famous for welding. Tim entered the bedroom, and as soon as the scent hit him, his stomach dropped and his blood seemed to freeze. There was no scent at all. Damian had essentially shut his body down in his grief. The boy was in dangerous condition. Tim spotted Damian’s black hair hidden under a multitude of blankets. Someone had clearly tried to create an Omega nest with several pillows and blankets, but it had none of the disorganized order that Tim had seen in Damian’s nests. The Alpha moved further into the room, coming closer to the bed. Damian’s scent of spice and cinnamon was faint. Tim got on his knees and leaned towards Damian, burying his nose in Damians neck and inhaled. The scent was stronger here, but not as strong as Tim remembered. He had hoped his presence would pull out a response from the Omega. Any Alpha should, especially a familiar one.

None of Tim’s servants were Alphas.

Tim smiled wickedly when Damian did stir, turning around to face him. That smile faded as Damian’s blank eyes bored into Tim’s.

Damian had been fearful, angry, upset, happy, and lustful. But never blank. Never empty.

“This is your fault.” Damian’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I had him.”

Tim’s breath caught. Him. Tim would’ve had a son.

“You took him from me.” Damian’s gaze didn’t waver, though tears streamed from his face. “I want him back. Give him back.”

“Oh, love.” Tim leaned forward, stepping onto the bed, sitting and gathering Damian into his arms. “I will. I will give you another, and many more after that. I am sorry. I wasn’t here.” Tim shushed the Omega as he began to wail, an actual scent coming off of his body and speaking volumes about his distress. “I will be here next time, and every time after that.” Tim promised. Unknown to Damian, a sinister grin made it’s way to his face. A Bond, obtained between castes was signified by a bite mark on one’s neck. The pair would have complete access to the other’s thoughts and emotions. Only problem was that if it wasn’t consensual, it wouldn’t work. So if Tim couldn’t manage to charm Damian enough to allow for a consensual Bonding, then any Alpha could just come along and steal his prize. Tim brought his hand up, lighting scratching the top of Damian’s head, knowing the Omega liked it when he did that. Tim’s best chances would be to give Damian a child, one to keep and love. The next Damian would have would be Tim’s heir.

The first, Damian could have. The second, Tim would train. The second, would be the greatest assassin. But perhaps, Tim may need to gain Damian’s trust with more than one child. Whatever the Omega needed, Tim would give. Tim stroked Damian’s back, releasing calming hormones. The Omega buried his face into Tim’s neck. Tim could feel the tears hit his back and shoulder, so he kept holding the Omega, shushing him and murmuring comforts.

“When” Damian’s voice was steadier, closer to how Tim remembered him. “When. I want one now.” he was still crying, however. Tim smiled gently, keeping his touches light. He considered this. Damian was clad in flowy, light fabric. White and comfortable. Easy to take off. Omegas, on the other hand, were more fertile during their heats. But taking him now would mean extra brownie points for their Bond.

“You can have one now.” Tim hoisted Damian up until the seventeen year old was straddling his lap, Tim’s lithe fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Damian’s clothing. “You can have as many as you’d like.”


	2. Aren't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's pregnant with Tim's child, their second one. And everything in him is screaming to hold and protect this child, but at the same time, he cannot forget the first one, nor that it is Tim's child he is carrying.

Damian sat up from the floor, watching Tim leave. He narrowed his eyes as the Alpha left, watching as Tim ‘s fingers skimmed the handle of the door before closing it, the sound of the lock clicking as he went. Damian pulled the blankets around his shoulders, covering the marks darker than his bronze skin, dulled by the events of the past. His heat had just ended a few hours ago, and Tim had gone to meet with Damian’s Grandfather, Ra’s al Ghul. Damian barely repressed a shudder at the thought of the name. That man had kept Damian caged and prettied up for Tim ever since he was ten years old. His mother had done her best to protect him, but as soon as Damian had been a suspected Omega, his Grandfather had ripped him from his assassin training and had began parading him around, trying to attract Tim’s interest, and boy, he did. Tim had been interested in Damian since he was a baby, and Tim three years old. Playing with him, teaching him, and leading him around. The attention and gifts only increased when Damian was thought to be an Omega. They erupted into dangerous amounts when Damian truly presented, when he was thirteen, as an Omega. Damian brought the blanket over his head, breathing in at the soft scent, a light scent of spices, cinnamon and vanilla both mixed in. His favourite scent. Mira knew him well. It hid the thick scent of sex and sweat, smelling heavily of Tim, as Damian couldn’t catch his own scent.

_”Are you coming, Damian?” Tim’s hand was larger than Damian’s, grasping tightly. The thirteen year old smiled softly at the younger, nine year old boy._

_“Sure.” Damian shrugged and followed, little steps trying to catch up with the bigger boy. Tim, as expected, had hit several growth spurts already, and was much taller. Damian had yet to hit his. He might be a late bloomer, after all, some Alphas were. His mother insisted that the later the growth spurt, the taller one would grow. Damian was pleased with that explanation, but she had looked worried. Oh well. He was the true heir, and nothing could change that. Tim led him deeper into the forest, and they marvelled at the fungi and trees together, Tim commenting on how old some of them were._

_“This island is in a province called British Columbia. Provinces are like the states of Canada.” Tim explained. “These are all Grand Fir trees, native to the isles. One day, Damian, I’ll own this island, and we can explore all the little nooks and crannies.”_

_Later that day, they found a cave and began gathering all of the species of plants, berries, and leaves of trees that they could not name. They snuck a plant type book into their cave, and began identifying everything, going over all the berries and remarking on their uses._

_They laughed when a bear found them, and they were forced to escape through the gap in the cavern wall, into a maze of roots to the surface, while the bear ate their berries and snuffled through their leaves, the book tucked under Tim’s arm._

Damian shook his head to clear it, not even able to smell the soothing lavender of Mira as she opened the door. Her nose visibly wrinkled, but Damian ignored it. He silently agreed. She walked over, grasping at his arm gently and helping him up, aiding him in hobbling to his own room. Tim had forced their coupling into a guest bedroom in the house, as he too disliked the scent of sex. Some days, Damian thought Tim hated Damian’s scent to, just refused to comment on it. Mira opened his bedroom door and let him through, giving him the privacy to change by himself. Damian opened his closet, blinking at the soft white fabrics. The outfits were nearly all identical, white and flowy fabric, ones that wrapped around his waist to his ankle, tight only in those areas, and loose in all others. The top was cloth wrapped several times around his chest, crossing over on the chest, and the sleeves loose. The collar was low, baring Damian’s neck for the collars Alphas seemed to be so fond of.

Damian dressed quickly, unable to even look at himself. The clothes were loose so that if he tried to escape, they would catch easily, white so that he would be spotted easily in the darkness of night, and crisp and clean to force Damian to look healthier than he actually was. Being caged and beaten down constantly did no good for Damian’s mental and physical health, and that wasn’t even factoring in the fact that he almost never saw the sun, nor went outside. Damian looked at the too-large bed in the too-small room. It was a glorified prison, books and pads of paper with crayons scattered along the one side of the floor, drawings scattered around the room in crayon only. Tim didn’t trust Damian with anything he could use to harm himself - as if Tim believed that Damian would kill himself the first chance he got. And honestly, Tim wasn’t wrong often. Damian took a breath and exited the room, seeing Mira standing beside his door. He turned towards the kitchens, and she followed him, quietly, slightly behind him on his left, between him and the courtyard. If he ran for it, she would just grab him. If she let him go, she’d be executed without a trial or a chance to speak, so he would not blame her if she did refuse to let him leave. He continued, waiting for her to open the door to let him through, having him sit down at the table. She asked what he wanted, and he stayed silent.

There was a fire in his stomach that didn’t belong to him, and that he didn’t want. There was a part of him that was desperate for a child to care for, another repulsed by the fact that it was Tim’s. When he said nothing, she ordered something for him, but he wasn’t listening enough to know what it was. The kitchen was a small table for two, a shoot between the two seats, leading to the actual kitchen with the cooks. When they ordered something, they spoke into the tube and the food arrived when it was ready.

Damian was too occupied with the feeling of numbness within him to care.

_Tim wound his arm around Damian’s waist, the fifteen year old looking up at him in slight discomfort. Damian sighed and shuffled slightly, trying to return to his book, but finding he couldn’t concentrate. Instead of growing up as Mother had promised, he had grown out in his hips, and not very much in height. Tim was a head taller than him, a book held in his right hand, lithe and narrow fingers holding the book, stroking the pages gently. Damian studied him for a moment. Just yesterday, Tim had sent an entire bouquet of flowers to his room, and when Mother had seen them, she had immediately thrown them out and then gone to see Grandfather. Damian hadn’t seen her since._

_She was the only person who was willing to tell Tim to step off. If Grandfather put her somewhere else, what would happen to Damian?_

_Tim looked down at him, catching Damian’s eye and smirking cruelly._

_Damian wondered when Tim’s smile had progressed to that level of malice, and how he hadn’t noticed._

Damian barely looked up when the food arrived. He ate soundlessly, barely tasting any of it, before asking to be taken back to his bedroom, where he slept.

This pattern continued.

Three months in, and Damian was empty, lifeless, and uncaring. He could feel the child within him clearly, developing, but the hormones, the care, wasn’t there. His body, his mind, was preparing for disappointment, for death. It was expected, that from Damian’s body, months too early, a small child would pop out a shrivelled husk, destined to be dead from the moment it was born. Damian didn’t notice Tim when he approached, didn’t look up or react.

He did feel the rush of pheromones go over his body, felt them flush over his skin and concentrate in his abdomen. He felt the warmth, the sense of Tim, fill his belly, and give strength to his baby. He felt Tim smile against his neck, felt the lips parting. He felt the teeth press down, but when no response was given, Tim backed off. If there was nothing to Bond to, one couldn’t Bond, so there was no sense in biting down. Tim gently turned him around, fingers skimming his jaw. Damian looked up, catching Tim’s gaze. Tim smiled at him, and took his hand.

“We’re going to go explore the forest.” he decided. “I found a nest of robins the other day. We should go take some pictures so you have some inspiration to draw.” he said, and when he tugged, Damian followed.

He always did.

_  
Those fingers brushed his jaw, and Damian turned his face away stubbornly. Tim pressed against him more insistently, and Damian looked at him with fire in his eyes, anger tightening every muscle in his body. The few that were left after his training cut off completely when he was ten. When Tim chuckled and went to turn Damian’s face, the younger boy lashed out with his teeth, finding purchase in the meaty part of Tim’s thumb and biting down as hard as he could, the taste of coppery blood filling his mouth. Tim brought his other hand up, slapping Damian on the cheek. The boy reeled, nearly falling sideways before Tim none too gently grabbed his shoulders, slamming him back into the wall, Tim’s mouth hot on Damian’s. Damian tried to bite his tongue, but was kneed in the abdomen._

_The Omega fell forward, and Tim took advantage, taking away any leverage Damian had. Damian was sixteen, given to Tim._

_There was absolutely nothing he could do._

Six months in and Damian was waddling around, Mira diligently fetching every one of his cravings, and massaging his feet every night. His room had a smaller, but no less luxurious bed and a desk, with a small lamp and several different drawing supplies, piled of sketchbooks on the floor beside it. Tim had even framed some of the drawings, hanging them everywhere in the house. Tim’s favourite, the one of the baby robins, was framed and hung in Tim’s own room, while Damian’s favourites remained in his room, mahogany frames glinting in the soft yellow light of the lamp. A painting easel sat in the corner of the room, a violin case on the desk. Damian waddled over to the easel, plopping his butt on it and picking up a brush, dipping it into dark paint. He closed his eyes, allowing for the images to form in his head first, before he began to give life to them. Tim had taken him out on a boat ride, and he was determined to capture the sight of the rocks rising from the waves. He began the black tips, blending into the lighter gray at the bottom. Before he knew it, Mira was at his door telling him it was time to go to sleep. Damian sighed softly, placing his paintbrush down and turning the lamp off, declining her offer of a massage. He laid in the bed, as comfortable as he could be, but just couldn’t find the right spot. He huffed in frustration, silently cursing his big belly.

Things had been better. Tim had began to act more like himself, more like the self Damian had known from childhood. He had taken Damian out to see Tim’s island. Tim had begun gifting Damian things again, from the violin to the desk, to all his art supplies. He had taken an interest in Damian’s work, requesting to hear him play violin and sitting with him while he drew. Tomorrow, Ra’s was addressing the assassin, the mere cannon fodder. Tim had requested that he be able to bring Damian out, to mingle with the other high officials, and to announce the pregnancy and the child. They had to leave early, as they had to get off the island and then fly all the way back to Saudi Arabia. Damian closed his eyes, hearing the door open. No one would open it without saying anything except Tim himself. Damian heard the footsteps, feeling the bed’s mattress dip as Tim settled behind him, wrapping his arms around Damian’s waist. Tim’s scent, his pheromones, they washed over Damian’s skin, and Damian could feel the baby finally settle, and Damian nearly melted into the mattress. Tim shuffled forwards, encasing Damian in his arms, resting his chin on top of Damian’s head. Damian inhaled the scent of Tim, a crisp mountain morning, chilly and refreshing. Damian fell asleep, comforted by the stillness of his baby.

The next morning, Damian dressed in different clothes, splashes of colour that he had missed for so long. His hair was trimmed slightly, it’s perpetual spikiness becoming even more prominent as they dressed him in silky clothes. The shirt was an ice blue silk long sleeve with a high collar and low neckline, a black diamond necklace set on his neck. It was loose, and the pants were as well, stretchy and allowing room for his baby bump. Tim helped Damian to the boat, and they took pictures of the seagulls and rock formations as they waited for the ride to be over. When they reached the coast, Tim checked them into their private jet and they set off for League territory, based in a smaller desert in Saudi Arabia, known for it’s underground caverns. During the ride, Damian slept, the baby stilling. For some reason, the baby always seemed to be quiet and still around Tim, refusing to move, as if it ceased to exist for a moment. When he was awake, Tim would go up and speak to the captain, and Damian would draw. Right now, he was working on a sketch of his ultrasound, an image he already had memorized, down to every single line.

They arrived, and the gathering began. The assassins were called, and Ra’s stood at his little open box, leaning on the railing and addressing his people. He introduced them, and Damian could feel the presence of Tim beside him, speaking articulately, with hand gestures and soft smiles, a light in his eyes as he spoke of their future. Amusing, really, how much of a front Tim could put on in front of a crowd. Tim spoke of his recent absence, explaining that Damian was pregnant - and from the other side of the box, Talia’s head whipped around to look at him, sense an expression, but she got nothing. Damian would not subject himself to the masses. The palace of the al Ghuls was enormous, magnificent, and towered over people’s heads. It was meant to intimidate, and this palace was only used for formal assemblies. All of the actual League work was done in the underground caverns, specifically to avoid using something so obvious. Damian had wandered these halls as a child, waiting for the trainers his mother had sent to leap out and attack him. If Tim had been around when they chose to do so, the older boy would step in and give them a sound thrashing. Sure, it was childish, but Damian always stuck his tongue out at them.

Tim had always been the best assassin of all of them. Mother said that one day, Ra’s just showed up with Tim when he was two years old, after an odd visit from someone Mother said she almost recognized, but not quite.

Damian watched the proceedings, bored out of his mind, occupying himself with the subtle movements.

Three months and seventeen days later, on February 18th, Timothy Ra’s al Ghul was born, officially named Timothy II. Tim had come in late, but nonetheless, had been there, holding Damian’s hand.

Damian held his child first with shaking hands, pushing the baby close to his chest.

He ignored the dark feeling rising in his chest, encompassing his entire body. It had to just be his body’s postpartum depression due to not being pregnant anymore.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please comment below. ;)


	3. Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian goes to see his mother. Things have been well, Timothy II is three years old now, and Tim has continued his treatment of Damian, giving him more freedoms, uncaging him. Damian has hope for the future.  
> Tragedy strikes.

“Goodnight, little love.” Damian kissed the crown of Timothy II’s head, a fond smile on his face. The three year old giggled, obediently turning around in his bed and closing his eyes. Damian blew his candle out as he left, shutting the door quietly behind him. The child was growing well, beginning to grow into a larger build. Damian was sure the child would grow to be an Alpha, but only time would truly tell. Tim was waiting for Damian in the hallway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. When he saw Damian, the man uncrossed his arms, standing straight. Tim walked forward briskly, crossing the hall in three steps, his arm reaching for Damian’s waist. He buried his nose in the crook of Damian’s neck, pulling the Omega towards him. The taller male inhaled, smiling softly as he pulled back.

“How’s our little guy?” he joked softly, glancing towards the door. Damian allowed a smile in return, shakily raising a hand to Tim’s chest. Tim allowed the motion, encouraging it gently with a wider smile. Still, Damian was getting used to their relationship, after the abandonment, but it had been better. Much better.

“He’s doing well.” Damian admitted. “He’s having no trouble sleeping now. He asked about you yesterday, when you were on an assignment.” they had chosen to keep their son in the loop about Tim’s true purpose, attempting to cut trauma off before it could affect their son. Slowly, he was being exposed to Tim’s job, and was becoming desensitized. Damian thought it would not be long before Tim began taking their son on missions to merely observe. Damian mourned the loss of the company. He had enjoyed having his son around, the milky scent of a baby not yet presented a comforting notion.

“You’ve been working so hard with him lately.” Tim pressed closer, both hands sliding around Damian’s waist, gently massaging just above the hem of Damian’s pants. The Omega let out a little sigh, leaning forwards to accept the ministration, and Tim smiled, kissing the top of the Omega’s head. “Perhaps… you should go see your mother. You haven’t seen her for nearly four years, correct? You must miss her.” Tim remarked, Damian’s head snapping up. Tim blinked down at him, a rush of comforting pheromones running over Damian’s body. “I won’t accept any missions until then. It’ll be some father son bonding. If you want,” Tim chuckled. “I’ll even talk to him about getting a sibling. It’s high time he had one, don’t you think?” Tim’s fingers, skilled and lithe and deadly, slipped lower.

“I…” Damian felt unsure, concern and anxiety spiraling in his gut. Tim’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his hold becoming tighter.

“I’ll take care of him.” the words were laced with a Command, and Damian felt himself melt against the will of the Alpha. He let go of his tension, the anxiety melting away, the thoughts being planted in his head. He wouldn’t have to have the birds and the bees talk with Timothy II, and it would be a good father-son bonding experience. Plus, he hadn’t seen his mother. He should go speak with her. The warm sensation flooded his body, accompanied with the scent of the Alpha.

“Okay.” Damian slurred, eyes misted over. “I’ll go see Mother.”

Tim smiled.

~

“Be good, little love.” Damian said, on his knees as he hugged his son. “You have fun with Daddy, alright?” he kissed the crown of Timothy II’s head, smiling fondly at the child. He had grown with the promise of a large build. Already, he had a strong jaw that belonged to neither Tim or Damian, pale skin, black hair, and dark blue eyes. Eyes that too, belonged to neither Tim nor Damian. Damian was unsure of where this child got most of his appearance from, but it wasn’t familiar. Damian smiled at the boy, patting his head as he stood, accepting a chaste kiss from Tim. Damian waved as he entered the large jet Mira was operating, destined for Talia’s own island closer to the main base. Damian watched them until the landing deck closed, and the plane began taking off. Damian raced for a seat, buckling himself in as Mira took off, and from the window, Damian watched the vision of his husband and son waving until they faded from view. Damian sighed softly, unable to shake the feeling of anxiety. He looked towards the pilot’s box, as Mira walked out.

“We are on autopilot, sir.” she announced, dressed in a form fitting, black, full body suit, black leather boots upon her feet, Damian noted that she had just cut her hair. It now hung in uneven chunks above her shoulders, as if she had just hacked it off with a knife. The Beta wasn’t curvy by any true standards, but she had a pretty face. Damian stood, nodding as she returned to the cockpit, not making a sound against the floor. Damian made his way over to his suitcase and bag, finding his sketchpad and a pencil. He allowed the images to form without caring much about them. They were nonsensical, without much shape, and just shaded. They weren’t anything that Damian could define, but they matched how he felt, anxiety swirling in his gut and darkening his vision. He took a few deep breaths as he ripped the page up.

Tim didn’t like things without shape.

Damian read to occupy himself until the plane landed, touching down in Rub’ al Khali desert, the largest sand desert in the world, occupying most of the Arabian peninsula. This particular spot was located within Saudi Arabia, the sandy terrain giving way to a palace, ornate towers and decorated doors, stained glass windows, and assassins in the courtyard, training. Damian felt like he could almost hear them yelling the numbers of katas from the jet. It lowered, Mira landing them. Damian’s Mother was standing just outside of the landing square, her dark hair whipping in the wind. Her bright green eyes, once dark, were fixated on the jet as it descended. Her hair flew above her head, her curves pronounced. Unlike Damian, she was infertile as an Omega. Everyone assumed she would present as Alpha, but when she did not, she had to work her way up the ranks from the very bottom. She was almost sold off to Damian’s father, the way Damian was to Tim, but when Batman refused her, Ra’s decided to use her anger and humiliation for his own benefit, training her to become a ruthless weapon. She stayed squared, her weight evenly distributed as she watched the jet land, her eyes refusing to allow any emotion through When Mira disengaged the landing gear and fully stopped the plane, Damian was flying out of it, coming to a stop in front of his Mother.

“Damian.” she smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. He stifled a sob and flung himself into her arms. Her muscles tensed, prepared for attack, but when none came, he felt her relax, her arms winding around his shoulders. “I heard about what happened.” she murmured into his ear. “I’m so sorry. I understand. Of all people, I understand.”

Damian nodded. Her hair was soft and thick against his face.

She wasn’t always infertile. But after a miscarriage gone wrong…

Damian shook his head, unlocking his arms from his Mother, allowing her to gently lead him into the compound, taking him to a room with soft colours and an even softer carpet. She sat him down and called for tea, and they spoke over the rim of their mugs, breathing in the steam from their respective teas; chai for Damian, and jasmine for Talia.

“Timothy II is doing well.” Damian murmured. “I… well, I heard Timothy ask about our son’s potential for an Alpha.” he admitted. “The doctor said that it was very likely that Timothy II would become an Alpha, and there was little chance of him being an Omega. Timothy seemed pleased.” Damian said, glancing up at his mother. She had a thoughtful expression on her face, tapping her nails softly against the mug, the clink somehow comforting.

“Has he taken to teaching your son any type of fighting technique?” she asked, tilting her head to the left, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. She was dressed in a full black body suit, similar to Mira’s.

“No.” Damian admitted. “When he brought it up the first time, I had a panic attack and he eased off.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“About two months.”

“I see.” Talia’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well.” she stood up gracefully, sending a soft smile to her son. “It’s nearing ten pm. You should retire for the night. I will have one of the servants guide you to your chambers, Damian, I have some work to do before I retire myself.” she said easily, watching as her son nodded and stood. She squeezed his shoulder before he left, watching him leave until his form disappeared between the lightly shutting door. She sighed, turning her head and striding across the room to her desk, pulling out her files on Timothy Drake. She had never trusted the child one bit. When he had first come here, he had been closed off and seemingly emotionless. No one could get a reaction out of him, but after being with Ra’s enough, he began to develop a cruel personality. Talia couldn’t have cared less, except… for when he got close to her own son. She couldn’t have biological offspring anymore, and her Damian was her perfect creation of science and creativity, the union between herself and her Beloved that she had always craved, yet was always denied. She had been suspicious when his personality turned 180 degrees whenever he was faced with Damian, even though the change had been positive.

It just wasn’t in the realm of ordinary child behaviour.

And oh God… Talia just prayed that she was wrong in her theory.

~

A few weeks had passed, and Damian was set to return home. He hugged his mother, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he boarded the jet. He buckled himself in, waved at her until he couldn’t see her, but even then, couldn’t seem to be able to shake the anxiety. His body was restless, unable to hold still. He was bouncing his leg up and down, his left hand attempting to crack the bones in his right, and his head whipping back and forth violently. He watched the jet land in the water, being taken down to Tim’s Nest. Mira escorted him to the top, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. As soon as he stepped foot on the grass, a spike on anxiety shot up his chest. Tim was sitting on a bench, waiting for him. He was covered in bruises and cuts, a cast around his right arm and collarbone, his face the very picture of grief.

Damian felt his stomach drop.

Tim was standing, moving towards Damian as best he could. “It was Batman.” he spat, words laced in hate and poison as he dragged Damian’s frozen body towards him. Damian could barely near him, the shock leading to tears and whimpers that turned into screams as he sobbed his grief, repeating the word “No” over and over again into Tim’s shoulder, as he gripped the man’s shirt and screamed out of his grief. “Batman attacked and kidnapped Timmy.” Tim sobbed. “I have no idea how he found us. He… he killed Timmy, Damian.” Tim sobbed, and Damian felt Tim’s tears fall down his hair. “I tried… I tried so hard…”

_”I should’ve never taken you here.” Red Robin raised an eyebrow at his son, watching as the child cowered behind Batman. “Honestly. We came here to train you, to make you stronger, and you join with the enemy? You’re supposed to hate them, Timmy, Timmy.” Red Robin scolded, shaking his head. Batman tensed, keeping the child far away from his father._

_“You hurt Mother!” Timmy screamed, his little voice cutting through the tension. Dick and Jason were on their way, cursing as they got stuck in traffic, being forced to abandon the car Jason had stolen from Bruce’s garage._

_“Did I?” Red Robin tilted his head, observing his son. “You have three seconds to get over here, Timmy.”_

“I’m so sorry… this is all my fault.” Tim’s voice was breaking, his sobs shaking Damian’s body. Damian just screamed in his grief, his grief reflecting off of Tim’s, making the both of them cry even harder.

_”One.”_

“I can’t atone for this. I couldn’t fight him. He caught me off guard. I did all I could. I promised you a child, Damian, I am so sorry. I’m such a fool…”

_”Two.”_

“I’ll hurt him for this, Damian.” Tim pushed his palms onto Damian’s face, disturbing the flow of tears. Damian read the true grief and sincerity in his eyes, gripping Tim’s wrists with his own fingers, unable to let go of the one thing able to keep him stable, grounded. Not six feet under like his son. Damian sobbed again, a fresh wave of tears hitting Tim’s hands.

_”Three.” Red Robin moved, faster than Batman expected, fainting a kick. Batman fell for it, shifting his weight. He cursed himself as the other man grabbed the child by the collar of his shirt. Batman had just found out he was a grandfather - hell, he didn’t even know he was a biological father - when the child had broken into the Cave, shoving a DNA test in Bruce’s face, his face lit up. He had seen Bruce on TV and thought they looked alike. It had changed Bruce’s world, learning of the Omega son he never knew. He had resolved to protect this child, and to find his own. Reunite them, and get them away from this psychopathic megalomaniac standing in front of them. Red Robin grabbed his son and threw him towards the opposite end of the roof, taking the blow as Bruce whaled on his right forearm, shattering the bone. Red Robin grunted, moving backwards as Bruce stepped, tripping him and sending a well-placed palm strike into Red Robin’s collarbone._

“I’ll kill him.” Damian’s voice was small. Light. **Deadly**. “I’ll gouge his eyes out for every mark he left on Timothy II.” Damian raised his head, eyes on fire. Tim barely repressed a smirk, keeping the expression of grief on his face. “I’ll do anything. Train me and let me be the one to kill him.” the grip of Tim’s wrists tightened, and Tim considered it. “I’ll do anything.” Damian murmured, dipping his head and tilting it to the right, baring his neck. Tim felt his pupils enlarge, his heart beginning to beat faster. Tim leaned forwards, pressed his lips to the junction between Damian’s shoulder and neck, moving his lips into the skin. He felt Damian shudder at the contact, the boy’s grip loosening.

_Red Robin fell backwards, placing his palms down and letting out a soft groan as the shattered the bone further, sending bone shards into his forearm. He pushed off from his palms, landing behind his child, whom he had just recently thrown. Before anyone could react, he was behind the child, a knife glinting in the moonlight. Batman’s eyes widened and in his shock - there’s no way he even could - he didn’t move fast enough._

_Tim was smiling, his teeth completely bared. The knife flashed._

_And a bright red smile was cut into Timothy II’s throat._

When Tim bit down, he felt Damian’s emotions flood into him, nearly knocking him over in the strength and severity. He grinned, wickedly, felt the tangy taste of Damian’s copper blood fill his mouth, and reflected back the same level of grief, shame, and self hatred. Damian shied away, his breathing elevated. Tim released the boy’s neck, dragging his head towards Tim’s own for a hungry kiss. Damian barely reciprocated so Tim had to lead in everything, but he didn’t mind.

He got what he wanted.

_By the time Batman’s grandson’s body had hit the ground, Red Robin was gone. Nightwing and Red Hood arrived on the scene, ready to fight-_

_And were not prepared for Batman cradling a dead child’s body, shaking in his grief._

_“Oh my God.” Dick uttered, as Jason screamed, cussing as he kicked a wall repeatedly, the green his eyes standing out more than ever. His whole form was tense, veins popping out. Dick hung his head, fury coursing through his bones._

_“That sick **fuck**.” Dick murmured, blazing eyes focused on the child, bleeding out and choking on his own blood. This wasn’t something that they could heal. Nothing would fix him, and they were forced to watch him die with terror in his eyes and depression in his body._

_“He has my son.” Bruce turned his eyes to the horizon, hard and cold, unflinching as steel. “He killed my grandson. He has my son. We’re getting him back. If it’s the last thing any of us do… we’re getting him back.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, if you liked this, please comment below! Thank you for reading!  
> Also, if you guys are interested, this chapter is based on "Happy Hurts" by Icon for Hire.


End file.
